


Steam

by Saladscream



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bukkake, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saladscream/pseuds/Saladscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonah hooks up with Carlin. Often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steam

**Author's Note:**

> Written a long time ago (8 years ago, if anyone's counting). Inspired by one of my own manips, which is in itself an extremely rare occurence. Not sure I can post manips here (or even link to manips), so you'll have to use your imagination... or contact me privately. ;-)
> 
> I blame Pepe for this. She encouraged, cheered and here's the result.
> 
> Many thanks for the alpha reading, Pepe.

Every night Jonah found him in the same place. A dangerous place - Thera had warned him over and over. This segment of the facility was an accident waiting to happen. It was disused and run down; the pipes were eaten by rust and would often splinter and burst open without warning, spitting metal and clouds of burning vapour. 

Dangerous. 

And that's where Jonah always met him, night after night. 

Propped against the same railing, by the same big pipe. Surrounded by an eerie haze of steam and light. Just waiting for Jonah to come to him - as Jonah always did. 

He was always dirty. All bare skin covered in inelegant smudges. He never bothered to wash so his skin was always hot and slippery, rich with sweat and thick with flavour. A feast for the senses. Jonah usually bit him, trying to steal something from him - something he could keep during daytime.  

He was always near-naked. For some reason he only kept his underwear - not that Jonah was complaining. The sight of those hands twisting and stretching the black fabric around his thighs never failed to go straight to Jonah's cock.  

He was always ready. Hard. Smooth. Painfully rigid with anticipation. And somehow Jonah could tell the man hadn't touched himself yet. He left this to Jonah. It was his little sacrifice, his way of making them even, or maybe it was just his way of cranking up the heat, of building up a head of steam. Whatever it was, it sure seemed to work for him; when Jonah went down on his knees he always saw the cock pulse and tighten, desperate and hungry, betraying a feverish heartbeat. It was Jonah's small victory.  

Then the hands pushed and pulled at the straps of the underwear, using the black cloth as a sling to support the heavy jutting erection and make it sway invitingly. It always made Jonah's mouth water and balls churn.  

His. All his.  

Jonah placed his hands on the man's hips and slowly brought his lips closer to the red hot tip. He waited there for a beat or two - suspended - a breath away from his prize. Jonah knew a thing or two about steam build-up, too. So he waited as his breath faintly dewed the head of the perfect cock, making it swell and strain. Then he took pity and licked a thick, wet stripe over the glans, leaving it deliciously shocked and glistening. The hands always tightened their grip on the black underwear - an effort to keep in the gasp Jonah knew had almost spilled over the beautiful, chapped lips. 

Jonah then wrapped his lips around the shaft, slow and deliberate, and with dedicated application he sucked on it. Relished it; he'd been waiting for this all day long. Tasting and smelling and eating his reward - with his tongue rolling wantonly around the flesh, with his teeth softly raking across the head, sometimes allowing the tip of his tongue to dip and wallow in the sweet and salty slit.  

The hands inevitably snaked through his hair, tight and distracted, trying to find a purchase on the feelings, on the sensations. When Jonah was too good, those same hands grappled and clawed at his scalp. When Jonah was too kind, they clamped at the back of his head and pulled him in, ruthlessly forcing him to take more.  

Tonight, Jonah balanced him perfectly on the edge, where pleasure was so acute it was almost pain. 

Almost.   

And tonight the hands did something different. One cupped the back of Jonah's head, a pleased, strange, caring gesture, while the other stroked the hollowed, hard-working cheeks, a callused thumb sliding wonderingly over Jonah's dirty stubble. Jonah kept up the pace, walking the wire as the dirty fingers caressed his face, traced his cheekbones, his jaw - the new sensations turning him inside out. He suddenly felt the telltale stiffening in the man's entire frame. His tongue and taste buds greedily anticipated the feast, but he was denied. 

One hand swiftly drew the cock out of his mouth and the other held his jaw until thick ribbons of hot come splattered on his upturned face.

Branded and glorified. 

Thankful moans as the sensitized cock lazily slathered the precious cooling juice on his skin.  

The beautiful, chapped lips preparing to form a name... 

No, really, there was no way Jonah could tell Carlin what his dreams were about.

 

 


End file.
